


Carving Holes

by milou407



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, First Meetings, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Memories, Moving Out, Off-screen death, Please Don't Hate Me, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:11:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milou407/pseuds/milou407
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last things to go are the boxes in the attic. The rest of the house is packed up and in the moving van, but they haven't taken the dusty boxes that still haven't been unpacked from when they first moved in. </p>
<p>What he finds in them is not what Combeferre expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carving Holes

_May, 2015_

The last things to go are the boxes in the attic. The rest of the house is packed up and in the moving van, but they haven't taken the dusty boxes that still haven't been unpacked from when they first moved in. Combeferre climbs the pull down staircase and blinks in the dust-sprinkled sunlight spilling in from the window facing the street. There are only two boxes left, he could easily take them downstairs in one trip and finish the process, leaving the house and its memories. Instead, his eyes catch on a sparkle of blue peeking out from one of the boxes, shining in the late afternoon sun. Kneeling, Combeferre pulls the flaps of the box open and takes out two paper fish, their scales reflective blue, with the names _Sebastien Courfeyrac_ and _Henri Combeferre_ written on them. He smiles, running his fingers over the lettering, written by a RA who didn't know what they had created by putting these two specific boys together.

\-------

_September, 1998_

The floor theme this year is "Under the Sea", hence the fish, and Combeferre could honestly say that he had never felt more adrift before in his life. Smoothing his hands over the sheets on his bed, he takes a deep breath and tries to center himself again. Logically, he knows that everything is going to be fine, but it's hard to reconcile that with the feeling of loneliness that permeates his half empty dorm room. Yes, he's alone and he doesn't know anyone at university, but a lot of other first years surely feel that way too. And maybe once he adjusts, he'll be able to find people who have similar interests as him, or at least people he can eat with. If everything goes truly poorly, he can always Skype his parents and his sister. Train tickets are expensive, but at least Skype is still free.

"Hey there!" Whirling around, Combeferre straightens and tugs at his sweater. There's a boy standing in the open doorway, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a box in his arms. His brown hair is in crazy curls, and his hazel eyes are bright with excitement. He's short and tanned, and his smile lights up the little dorm.

"I'm Courfeyrac, just ignore the Sebastien, that's my dad's name and it was a little confusing for a while, but then he left and now it's just a whole other type of awkward, so I just go by Courf most of the time. I guess since you're in my room, that makes you Henri? And if not, I really should ask you what you're doing in a room that's not yours. Not that I'm not excited to meet new people, but I think it violates privacy standards to be setting up a bed in a room that's not yours." 

He talks as he sets his stuff down on his mattress and desk, turning around once he's done to pin Combeferre with his sharp gaze.

"No, I... um," When did he become inarticulate? This is ridiculous. He knows how to speak, has done it before, in fact, and he will continue to do so in order to show this new person that he is capable of coherent thought. Combeferre has never been star struck by beautiful people and he's certainly not going to start now, "No, that's me. I mean I'm me. Wait...Combeferre. That's my name."

Courfeyrac cocks his head to the side and his grin turns smaller, but definitely warmer, "Let's start again," he holds out a hand and Combeferre clasps it in his own, "I'm Courfeyrac. It's nice to meet you."

"Hi, I'm Combeferre. It's lovely to meet you too. Sorry, I'm just a little nervous, this is all kind of overwhelming. I'm usually a lot more eloquent than that. "

"I'm sure you are. You look like the kind of guy who always knows the right thing to say."

Combeferre fiddles with his glasses, a nervous tic he's been trying to train himself out of for years, "I don't know if I'd go that far. I just usually don't succeed at putting my whole foot in my mouth."

Grinning again, Courfeyrac says, "I can already tell we're going to be great friends. Hold on, you have to meet someone first." He sticks his head out of the door and yells down the hall, "Enjolras! Come here, you have to approve of my roommate!" He turns back and mentions, "Enjolras is my friend from home, you're going to love him, I can already tell."

And of course, Courfeyrac already has friends, so he probably doesn't need any more. They'll be friendly, sure, but Combeferre will have to find a different beautiful person to hang around with because this one already has plenty of friends.

Combeferre is startled again by the appearance of another boy in their room. This boy, Enjolras he guesses, is taller than Courfeyrac, with blonde hair and delicate features. He doesn't have the same vivacity that Courfeyrac possesses, but his clear blue eyes have a passion behind them that Combeferre is intrigued by. Also, why does he have to approve of Combeferre?

Enjolras looks him up and down, clearly assessing, and Combeferre stands still, meeting Enjolras' challenging stare with one of his own.

"What's your name?"

"Henri Combeferre. Just Combeferre. Yours?"

"Enjolras Lafontaine. Intended major?"

"Biology, with a pre-medical school track. And you?"

"Political Science and Philosophy, most likely pre-law. Political leanings?"

"Decidedly liberal. Why?"

"Because I don't like bigots."

Combeferre laughs, "I don't think they'd like you either. You're rather blunt."

A small smile quirks the side of Enjolras' mouth, "Well, maybe just a little. But I'd rather not waste my time on someone I won't ever get along with."

"Fair enough. Did I pass?"

"With flying colors."

"Great!" Courfeyrac interjects, throwing his arms quickly around Enjolras and then Combeferre, who stands frozen, before jumping back and surveying them both. "Now, can we get lunch? I'm starving, and I'm not going to be able to unpack unless I get food first."

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but fondly, "Yes, Courf, we can go get lunch. I know how you get when you're hungry."

Gasping dramatically, Courfeyrac recoils, "I resent that implication."

"Oh please," They head out the door while Enjolras continues, "Do you remember The Cheesecake Incident? We're still banned from that cafe."

Combeferre stands in the empty room, silent now that all the life has left it. He sighs and sits back down on his bed.

Courfeyrac pops his head back around the doorway, "You coming?"

"What?" Combeferre vaults off of his bed.

"Aren't you coming with us? We're not leaving you alone for lunch, silly. We've still gotta get to know you! Don't worry, Enjolras is actually a softie under all that righteous fury."

An indignant, "No I'm not!", comes yelled from down the hall.

Courfeyrac winks and whispers, "Yes he is," before continuing at a normal volume, "So, you're coming with us, right?"

"Yes, definitely." And Combeferre follows Courfeyrac out of the room, feeling at home again.

\----

_May, 2015_

Smiling, Combeferre puts the fish aside and looks deeper into the box. Resting just under the fish is a paper he wrote in university, with a big, red circle around the date it was turned in. His grin grows wider as he looks over the paper, the subject not nearly half as important as the date on it.

\-----

_June, 1999_

Finally. It's taken him over a month to finish this goddamn final paper, and Combeferre's going to relish the feeling of a weight being lifted off of his shoulders for at least a few minutes. The elective history class he's taking to fulfill a requirement is very interesting, but comes with a lot of work, and he's somewhat glad it's finally over. He stands and grabs his bag to head over to the computer lab to print out the final version of his paper, stretching as he heads toward the door of his dorm room. When he gets there, Courfeyrac is coming back into the room from a philosophy exam he just finished, looking drained. He perks up when he sees Combeferre, though, which always makes Combeferre feel a bit warm and fuzzy inside.

"Hey there, Ferre," He murmurs, shifting as they both stand in the doorway, "Did you finally finish?"

"Yeah, just now. I was actually going to go to the computer lab, but if you want to go get dinner or something-"

"No, go ahead. I'll be here when you get back, we can do something then."

"Okay, I'll see you later." And they're really too close, the doorway is much too small, and-

Alright, here's the thing.

Combeferre is no stranger to crushes. He's had them before, and at the beginning of this year, when his feelings for Courfeyrac were still fresh and new, he was sure he'd move on and have them again. For the first few months, he was a stuttering mess around Courfeyrac, could barely keep himself together. Frankly, it was embarrassing. After the first glow faded and he got to know Courf better, it changed. His feelings were no less intense, but they weren't as disconcerting. It felt different than he had always imagined being in love felt like; less like a roaring fire, and more of a slow burn. It took him until about February to accept that this crush wasn't going anywhere soon and Courfeyrac probably didn't think of him that way anyway, so he's had a while to adjust to the idea that he is in love with Courfeyrac. He's back to acting normally, but if his heart rate picks up a bit when Courfeyrac smiles or laughs, that's no one's business but his own.

The point is that Combeferre has been in love for a long time, he's very tired, and as a result, is not completely responsible for his actions.

Which is why, after murmuring, "Okay, I'll see you later," he leans down, as casual as you please, and kisses Courfeyrac lightly on the lips before walking out the door.

He takes about ten steps down the hall before realizing exactly what has happened, at which point Combeferre freezes in his tracks. Turning around slowly, he stares at Courfeyrac, who is standing similarly stunned in their doorway, his fingers on his lips and his eyes wide.

"Oh my god. Shit. Oh no. I'm so sorry. Fuck. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I swear, it just happened. I'm really sorry, I'm just going to go-"

"Wait!" Courfeyrac vaults out of their doorway and runs up to him, grabbing Combeferre's face between his hands and pulling him down to kiss him again.

His lips are soft and a little chapped, but Courfeyrac kisses with an intensity that Combeferre can feel deep in his bones. His own arms come up to hold Courfeyrac close against him, enjoying what's happening, even if he doesn't understand it at all.

When they break apart, Courfeyrac beams up at him, his smile brighter than Combeferre has ever seen it before. "I've been wanting to do that for months now."

"Months?"

"Yeah," Courfeyrac's grin falters, "I've kind of been in love with you for a while now. And if that's not something you want or are ready for, I totally understand. I just thought, well, I had an opportunity, so I took it. Oh gosh, did you not know? I'm absolutely crazy about you. I've been pining, according to Enjolras, which is hilarious for so many reasons, seriously, he's completely gone over Grantaire. But yeah, I've wanted this for a long time and I'm sorry if this isn't what you want but I thought I might as well get one good kiss in before I freak you out and-"

Combeferre silences him with another kiss, this one more assured that their second, and more purposeful than their first. He kisses Courfeyrac with everything he has, pouring all of the love he feels into it, trying to communicate what he hasn't been able to say yet.

When he pulls away, Courfeyrac looks a little dazed, blinking up at him, those beautiful hazel eyes confused but happy.

"I love you."

The simple sentence makes Courfeyrac light up with joy, happier than Combeferre has ever seen him. His eyes are shining, and his hands come up to cover his mouth, but they can't stifle the grin that's trying to break free.

"Really?"

"Since I first met you," Combeferre laughs at Courf's shocked expression, "You're a whirlwind. How was I supposed to resist you?"

"I can't- You never- _Really?_ "

He laughs again, "Yes, really. I, Combeferre, love you, Courfeyrac. And have for a very long time."

Courfeyrac seems to be almost vibrating with joy as he pulls Combeferre down again into a kiss, and Combeferre loses track of how long they stand there, holding each other and basking in the warmth of this newly found love.

Eventually, Combeferre pulls back and looks at his watch, "Damn. _Shit._ I really need to go. The lab closes in twenty minutes, and I have to print this out and give it to my professor in a half hour."

Courfeyrac shoves him away playfully, "Away with you. I'll still be here when you get back. You can take me out to dinner and explain exactly why you decided it was okay to not tell me you were in love with me."

Grinning, Combeferre pulls him in for a proper goodbye kiss, just as gentle and sweet as their first, "I'd be happy to."

No one ever has to know that Combeferre sprinted around campus to get back to his dorm as quickly as possible. He has a very important date.

\-----

_May, 2015_

Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the memory, Combeferre puts the paper aside and looks further into the box. His cap and gown from his graduation from medical school are next, and he pulls them out as well, his fingers running over the polyester fabric. If he concentrates hard enough, he can still smell the grass from the field the ceremony took place on and feel the scratchy fabric of the gown where it brushes his neck over his collar.

\-----

_June, 2006_

It's finally over. Eight years of school, countless late nights, and seemingly endless internship hours have all led to this moment, when he has walked across the platform with his other classmates and finally graduated. He could hear all of Les Amis cheering for him from the crowd when he walked across, Courfeyrac and Enjolras the loudest of all. Now, the ceremony is over, the crowds have mostly broken up into small groups, and he's wading through them, trying to find his friends. They have to be around here somewhere.

"FERRE!"

Found them.

Combeferre turns and is immediately hit by an armful of excited Courfeyrac. He tightens his arms around his waist and lifts Courf, spinning him until he's breathless with laughter. Once he sets him down, Courfeyrac lifts up on his toes and kisses him, and Combeferre can feel how proud and overjoyed Courf is through his kiss. When they pull apart again Courf is smiling and bright-eyed; he has never looked so beautiful to Combeferre.

"You did it! I'm so proud of you, we're all ridiculously proud, did you hear us cheer? Everyone came, Enjolras even left all of his work at home! They're all back there somewhere, we were going to go to the Musain, but if you want to go somewhere else-"

"The Musain is fine, Courf. I'm just glad you're all here. It means a lot that you came."

Courf almost looks offended, "Of _course_ we would come! Even if your parents couldn't be here, we would. And how could you think I'd miss this?" He punches Ferre in the shoulder, "I love you, you idiot."

Combeferre laughs and tugs him in close again, leaning down to press their foreheads together. He hums happily, which makes Courfeyrac's smile grow. He asks, "What are you thinking about?"

"That I've never been happier than I am in this moment, right now."

Courfeyrac blushes and beams up at him, his face full of joy. Combeferre knows he will never get tired of seeing him smile, or his bed head in the morning (which really is legendary), or how focused he gets when he's presented with a challenge or a new case. In the end, it's this that pushes Combeferre to ask the question that's been sitting on his tongue for quite some time now.

"Marry me?"

The only word for Courfeyrac's expression is dumbstruck. He gapes at Combeferre, lost for words.

"...what? You...I.... _what?_ "

"Will you marry me?"

"....are you serious?"

"Absolutely. I have a ring, not with me, obviously, back at our apartment. I can give it to you once we get back, to make it more official. But will you?"

"Marry you?"

"Yes?" This is getting a bit worrying. "Do you not want to?"

This seems to snap Courfeyrac out of whatever daze he was in. "Ask me again, I promise I'll have a better answer."

Combeferre laughs gently, "Will you, Sebastien Courfeyrac, marry me, Henri Combeferre?"

"Yes. Absolutely. There's nothing I'd like more," and Courfeyrac reaches up again to kiss Combeferre, and all Combeferre can feel is incandescent happiness.

\------

_May, 2015_

Combeferre brushes his fingers over the gown again, lost for a moment in his memory. He shakes it off before he looks in the box again, this time finding a picture of himself and Courfeyrac from their wedding. He honestly doesn't remember much specifically from that night. It's all a blur, but he remembers pre-wedding butterflies, his happiness and excitement when Courfeyrac was called his husband for the first time, and the undercurrent of joy that was present all throughout the ceremony and reception. In the picture, Courfeyrac has his head thrown back in laughter, and Combeferre is staring at him, love plainly written on his features. He's pretty sure this picture was taken during Enjolras' best man speech, which thoroughly embarrassed both him and Courfeyrac by reliving many of their college adventures. God, they both look so young. He puts the picture to the side, along with the fish, and pushes away the now empty box. Opening the other one, he finds a stack of very official looking papers, and that more than anything makes Combeferre's breath catch in his throat.

Almost rushing now, he shoves his graduation robes back in their box, along with the final paper. He closes the box and stacks the other on top of it, laying the fish and the photo on top. Combeferre takes the boxes down stairs, and puts them in the back of the van before sliding in the front seat with his items. He’s hunched over, running his fingers over the loops that spell out their names on the fish and over their faces in the photo. Enjolras looks over at him, his forehead creased with concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just a little overwhelmed."

"Okay," Enjolras starts the van and pulls out of the driveway. Combeferre casts a last look at the house, blue with a white trim and filled to the brim with memories.

"Do you want me to drop you off..." Enjolras trails off, unsure of how to end the sentence.

"Yes, I can find my way to the flat from there, and it's not a long walk. I just have to tell him some things."

"That's fine." The two of them spend a few moments in silence, Combeferre tracing the writing on the sparkling blue fish with his fingers. "Are those from our university dorms?"

"Yes," Combeferre smiles, "I found them in a box in the attic. I can't believe we kept them, they're from so long ago."

Enjolras smiles too, "It was a long time ago. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday." Enjolras pulls up at the curb and stops. "R and I will be at the flat once you're done, we can help you unpack a little."

"Thank you. I won't be long." Combeferre shuts the door and walks away from the van, following a well-known path up the verdant hill. He comes to a stop at the top, and sits under the old holly tree. He sighs and looks out over the hill, feeling a slight breeze pull at his hair.

"We finished the move today. A few boxes from the attic, some furniture and clothes. That's all that was left. It felt so weird being there in an empty house, especially since I knew what it had felt like when it was full. The last things to bring out were those boxes; I don't think we had touched them since we had moved in. One still had some stuff from uni, Courf, I thought you would have gotten rid of years ago. But the other one-" Combeferre takes a deep breath, his voice shaking, "The other one had the adoption papers in it. The ones we filled out together, planning a life for ourselves and a future. And I just, I can't get rid of them. I can't throw them out or burn them because there's still a part of you in those papers. And I can't lose any more of you, I just can't."

Combeferre breaks off, his voice shaking too much to continue. He looks down at the picture in his hand, covered in its glass frame and traces their faces again. "There are still some days I wake up and can't remember why I'm in bed alone. Do you know how sad that is?" He laughs wetly, "Eight months and I'm still surprised." He shakes his head. "I don't know what I'm going to do now. The house was all that I really had left, besides some photos and things. Everyone says I should get some closure, but if that means forgetting you and leaving behind the life we had together, I don't want to do that. I don't even think I can. But I'm going to try, even if it's only so they all stop looking so worried about me whenever I see them."

He kneels from his sitting position and leans the picture and the fish against the piece of marble next to him. "These are for you. I have more than enough pictures, and I just think these belong with you." He stands and touches the stone with his fingertips. "Goodbye, Courfeyrac. I love you, and I'll see you this weekend."

And with that, he walks down the grassy knoll, hands in his pockets. The wind flutters the blue fish where they lay together, held down by the frame. Engraved on the marble reads:

_Sebastien Courfeyrac_  
Dearest Friend, Loving Husband  
August, 1980-October, 2014  
The world needs dreamers, and the world needs doers.  
But most of all, it needs dreamers who do.  


**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Sense8, "Death doesn't let you say goodbye, it carves holes in you."
> 
> Much thanks to my beta, duke307. Love you. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Much love.


End file.
